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by that_which_yields



Series: Smut Central [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Imagine your OTP, M/M, One Shot, Sappy Ending, Tumblr: imagineyourotp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_which_yields/pseuds/that_which_yields
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you find the love of your life and it’s perfect. Other times he’s pressing a gun to your head and asking if, before you’d die, you’d like a cup of tea. (One-shot, 1x2, 1xR)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

The barrel of the gun pushes Duo’s bangs aside, icy steel parting the silken locks to rest against the pale skin of his forehead. His head is leaned back against the wall, eyelids laid against flushed cheeks, eyelashes breaking against the bruises beneath his eyes. A tiny furrow of agony mars the smooth skin between his eyebrows as a trickle of blood leaks from the corner of his mouth. He’s covered in bruises. The pain of his flesh is negligible to the heartbreak of the person on the other end of the weapon. It’s exquisite, the heart-wrenching agony that comes from being despised by someone you adore.

Sometimes you find the love of your life and it’s perfect. Other times he’s pressing a gun to your head and asking if, before you’d die, you’d like a cup of tea. No, it’s not like that. Heero jabs his hand into the earpiece, snarling a greeting into the microphone. Duo can hear the tinny voice on the other end, high-pitched. Female.

“Relena, I’m sorry I missed – yes, I’m sor – I’m sorry you don’t feel well. No, I – what? – I didn’t do this on pur – Relena, seriously. What are you – Look, I’m sorry. Do you want me to bring you some tea? Yes, I’ll do that. See you soon.”

Duo cracks open an eye, the black metal fuzzing in his vision. He follows the line of the barrel, past Heero’s finger curled so confidently around the trigger, past the fine bones of Heero’s hand and the stunning muscle of his forearm, past the neatly cuffed sleeve and the shirt so well-cut that it nearly kills him. Ironic, that. The most beautiful man he’s ever seen stands in front of him, legs braced, arm extended, in a pose so confident and self-assured that he’d be half-hard if not for the fact that he is about to die. Once upon a time Duo would have said that he’d die for the chance to kiss Heero Yuy.

If he’d known that they would be here, in a filthy room, floor covered in blood and one arm broken, he would have swallowed his words. Now he was going to die regardless, and kissing Heero still wasn’t crossed off his bucket list.

“Trouble in paradise?” he rasps, larynx bruised from the first strike of Heero’s hand across his throat.

“None of your fucking business, Maxwell,” Heero spits, pressing the gun harder against Duo’s skin.

Duo lifts his shoulders in a shrug, a wince crossing his face as the broken bones grate together. The skin of his forehead wrinkles against the gun, and it’s a peculiar sensation that he hasn’t had the pleasure of experiencing before. Not that plenty of Oz people hadn’t pointed guns at him, it’s just that he usually didn’t let it go this far. Not until Superman over there waltzed onto the scene like a neurotic whirlwind, destroying Duo’s team before turning on Duo.

And Duo had just enough time to mutter a curse before Heero launched himself through the air like a fucking spider monkey, landing a harsh blow to Duo’s temple and pinning him against the wall by his arm. That was when his humerus had snapped, in the struggle to shove a hundred and a half pounds of pure muscle off of his back. That was when the bricks had lacerated his cheek, when his teeth had bitten into the inside of his lower lip. He’d landed a few bone-bruising blows on Heero, but his force was nothing compared to the former Wing pilot. Heero might be sore in the morning, but Duo would be dead.

So here they were. Duo slumped on the floor, head held upright by the barrel of a gun. His accuser and executioner agreeing to bring home tea to his lovely girlfriend. And a broken promise, one that Duo made to himself during the war. _I will kiss Heero Yuy before I die_.

“Why did you go rogue, Duo?”

“I … didn’t.”

“Duo, you left Preventers without leave or notice and blew up a government building on L2.”

“The so-called government on L2 is a fascist piece of shit and you know it, ‘Ro. An’ I couldn’t stay. There was nothin’ in Preventers for me. Quat had Tro and his politics, Wu has Preventers – he lives for it, he’s fuckin’ awesome at it, and I’m happy for him. And you’re you, ‘Ro. The perfect soldier. You were born to be a Preventer. Me? I’m just a dirty little street rat from L2. I was never meant to be enforcing the laws. I just break ‘em and run, and run until I get caught. And then I end up dead in some alley. I’m not like you guys. I never was. All of this was just an accident. So I went home. Did all the street kids did – grew up and rebelled the best I could.”

“It’s possible to grow up without the use of heavy-duty explosives, Duo. And what do you mean you didn’t have anything? You had us. We were a team, Duo, you were my partner. I needed you,” Heero’s voice is dangerously close to pleading, and something twists in Duo’s chest.

Now, of all times, Heero wants to talk about his feelings. And from the way they’re exploding from his lips, all blood-flecked and emotional, Heero’s been holding them in for a while. Duo bows his head. Now of all times, with a gun to his head. It would be funny if it weren’t him – so emotionally stunted that he needs to speak through a weapon.

“Fuck. You didn’t need me, ‘Ro. You just needed someone. And now you have Relena.”

“Relena isn’t _you_ , Duo! I needed _you_. I needed someone to understand. Not someone who gets mad at me in the middle of the night because I wake from screaming nightmares where I fail to stop Libra and everyone dies. She gets _mad_ at me, Duo. For something that you always understood. You left me. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Duo’s eyes clamp shut in pain, his hands curling into fists. Agony is radiating off of Heero in waves, his blue eyes dark with helplessness. The gun on his forehead is wavering, quivering in Heero’s hands, and Duo cracks open his eyes to find Heero’s whole body shaking with strain. His muscles stand out in sharp relief, coiled tight with stress, empty hand clenched around a fold of his pants. It doesn’t matter.

“What are your orders, Heero?”

Heero swallows, a clicking noise escaping his throat. He opens his mouth, shakes his head, and closes his lips. It’s only as he drops his gaze from Duo’s face that he answers, sounding defeated and forlorn. “Neutralize the rogue agent by any means necessary.”

“So, gun to the head and all that. Shit. I’m sorry, ‘Ro.”

Heero’s eyes flick up to his face, a twitch of confusion contorting his mouth. “Sorry for what, Duo?”

“I know you hate killing people. If you want, you can leave the gun and I can, you know. So you don’t have to see. I promise I won’t run.”

A wild glint flares into life in Heero’s eyes, and he tosses the gun aside. Duo flinches at it hits the ground, expecting an explosion of noise and sparks. It skitters harmlessly across the floor, sliding into shadow and out of sight. And Heero is on his knees, hands gripping the shoulders of Duo’s battered leather jacket.

“I can’t kill you, and I can’t let you go again. You’re not going to do this to me. Not now. I just found you,” Heero whispers fiercely, his face inches from Duo’s.

In a show of daring, Duo’s hand ghosts up to Heero’s shoulder, runs down the line of his bicep to cup his elbow. An almost-smile crosses his lips at the heat of Heero’s skin against his palm, and he can’t resist adding a tiny little squeeze.

“But you can’t fail, Heero,” he murmurs placidly, peace settling on his face like a flight of doves. “They know you don’t fail. Heero Yuy never misses a shot. And I’m sure you have a team waiting outside.”

Heero lays his head down on Duo’s shoulder, his hands sliding down until they wrap around the braided man’s ribcage. One hand reaches out, wrapping gently around the tail of the braid, careful not to pull it. Duo stills, a predator caught in a trap, his body frozen with surprise, as Heero folds himself around the smaller man.

“Heero?”

“No. I can’t keep trying to replace you.”

“But, Relena… and your team,” Duo stutters, still captured by the enveloping warmth of Heero’s arms.

“Relena was a poor substitute for you. And she makes me crazy. Well, crazier than I already am. And as for my team…” He trails off as they both hear the steady tread of approaching footsteps.

Duo glares over Heero’s shoulder, bristling with alertness as the figure steps out of the shadows. Wufei seems only mildly surprised to find Heero wrapped around Duo’s prone form, the gun nowhere in sight. Duo supposes that Heero gave Wufei a warning of sorts about the situation, considering that Mr. “I never talk about my feelings” had a speech prepared. He idly wonders how much Heero told Wufei, if Wufei was accepting or judgmental.

“I’m his team, Duo,” Wufei answers quietly. “And we’re here to bring you home.”

Heero draws himself again, untangling his limbs from Duo’s slender frame. He wraps a hand around Duo’s wrist, as if the braided man will disappear if Heero releases him. Duo drops his arm onto Heero’s leg and squeezes his knee comfortingly, though his words are anything but.

“I don’t have a home, Wufei. Not here, not earth, not anywhere. War orphan and all that.” He knows he sounds like he’s sulking, but it’s the truth he’s had to bear his whole life. He came back to L2 because it was what he knew, just as being a soldier is what Heero knows, but L2 isn’t home. No one should have to call L2 home. And as much as he wishes Earth was home, he doesn’t have a place there either.

“Come with me,” Heero murmurs, pleading. “Live with me. Be with me.”

“ _Be_ with you?” Duo repeats, a different question in his voice.

Footsteps recede, subtle and discreet, as Heero’s hand ghosts across his jaw. As the Perfect Soldier tilts his head, drifts a kiss across his lips. Tears spring to his eyes, trapped by his eyelids as they flutter shut. Heero leans into him, a hand resting on his chest, his heart pounding beneath the steady fingers. And Heero kisses him like Duo’s keeping him alive, like Duo is the pacemaker to his stuttering, fragile heart.

They separate, far enough for Heero’s lips to move, and Duo breathes in his words. “I’ll be your home.”


End file.
